harbour when motoring would be faster? And why was the woman in the bow, rather than Ramón himself? He needed to talk to Ramón, now!
The boat edged nearer. ‘Can you catch my line?’ the woman called, and he flinched and moved backward. He knew nothing about boats.
But it seemed she could manage without him. She jumped lightly over a gap he thought was far too wide, landing neatly on the dock, then hauled the boat into position and made her fast as Ramón tugged down the last sail.
‘Good morning,’ the woman said politely, casting him a curious glance. And maybe she was justified in her curiosity. He was in his customary suit, which he acknowledged looked out of place here. The woman was in the uniform of the sea—faded shorts, a T-shirt and nothing else. She looked windblown and free. Momentarily, he was caught by how good she looked, but only for an instant. His attention returned to Ramón.
‘Señor Rodriguez,’ Ramón called to him, cautious and wary.
‘You remember me?’
‘Yes,’ Ramón said shortly. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ the lawyer said, speaking in the mix of French and Spanish that formed the Cepheus language. ‘As long as you come home.’
‘My home’s on the Marquita. You know that.’
‘Not any more it’s not,’ the lawyer said. ‘Your uncle and your cousin are dead. As of four weeks ago, you’re the Crown Prince of Cepheus.’
There was silence. Jenny went on making all secure while Ramón stared at the man on the dock as if he’d spoken a foreign language.
Which he had, but Jenny had been raised speaking Spanish like a native, and she’d picked up French at school. There were so many similarities in form she’d slipped into it effortlessly. Now…She’d missed the odd word but she understood what the lawyer had said.
Or she thought she understood what he’d said.
Crown Prince of Cepheus. Ramón.
It might make linguistic sense. It didn’t make any other sort of sense.
‘My uncle’s dead?’ Ramón said at last, his voice without inflexion.
‘In a light plane crash four weeks ago. Your uncle, your cousin and your cousin’s wife, all killed. Only there’s worse. It seems your cousin wasn’t really married—he brought the woman he called his wife home and shocked his father and the country by declaring he was married, but now we’ve searched for proof, we’ve found none. So the child, Philippe, who stood to be heir, is illegitimate. You stand next in line. But if you’re not home in ten days then Carlos inherits.’
‘Carlos!’ The look of flat shock left Ramón’s face, replaced by anger, pure and savage. ‘You’re saying Carlos will inherit the throne?’
‘Not if you come home. You must see that’s the only way.’
‘No!’
‘Think about it.’
‘I’ve thought.’
‘Leave the woman to tend the boat and come with me,’ Señor Rodriguez said urgently. ‘We need to speak privately.’
‘The woman’s name is Gianetta.’ Ramón’s anger seemed to be building. ‘I won’t leave her.’
The man cast an uninterested glance at Jenny, as if she was of no import. Which, obviously, was the case. ‘Regardless, you must come.’
‘I can look after the boat,’ Jenny said, trying really hard to keep up. I won’t leave her. There was a declaration. But he obviously meant it for right now. Certainly not for tomorrow.
Crown Prince of Cepheus?
‘There’s immigration…’ Ramón said.
‘I can sort my papers out,’ she said. ‘The harbour master’s office is just over there. You do what you have to do on the way to wherever you’re going. Have your discussion and then come back and tell me what’s happening.’
‘Jenny…’
But she was starting to add things together in her head and she wasn’t liking them. Crown Prince of Cepheus.
‘I guess the Marquita would be your boat, then?’ she asked flatly, and she saw him flinch.
‘Yes, but…’
She felt sick. ‘There you go,’ she managed, fighting for dignity. ‘The owner’s needs always come first. I’ll stow the sails and make all neat. Then I might go for a nice long walk and let off a little steam. I’ll see you later.’
And Ramón cast her a glance where frustration, anger—and maybe even a touch of envy—were combined.
‘If you can…’
‘Of course I can,’ she said, almost cordially. ‘We’re on land again. I can stand on my own two feet.’
There were complications everywhere, and all he could think of was Jenny. Gianetta. His woman.
The flash of anger he’d seen when he’d confessed that he did indeed own the Marquita; the look of betrayal…
She’d think he’d lied to her. She wouldn’t understand what else was going on, but the lie would be there, as if in flashing neon.
Yes, he’d lied.
He needed to concentrate on the lawyer.
The throne of Cepheus was his.
Up until now there’d never been a thought of him inheriting. Neither his uncle nor his cousin, Cristián, had ever invited Ramón near the palace. He knew the country had been in dread of Cristián becoming Crown Prince but there was nothing anyone could do about it. Cristián had solidified his inheritance by marrying and having a child. The boy must be what, five?
For him to be proved illegitimate…
‘I can’t even remember the child’s name,’ he said across the lawyer’s stream of explanations, and the lawyer cast him a reproachful glance.
‘Philippe.’
‘How old?’
‘Five,’ he confirmed.
‘So what happens to Philippe?’
‘Nothing,’ the lawyer said. ‘He has no rights. With his parents dead, your aunt has organized foster care, and if you wish to make a financial settlement on him I imagine the country will be relieved. There’s a certain amount of anger…’
‘You mean my cousin didn’t make provision for his own son?’
‘Your cousin and your uncle spent every drop of their personal incomes on themselves, on gambling, on…on whatever they wished. The Crown
